


Never Alone

by kinnetic-fabgay (ferryberry)



Category: Glee, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Family, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferryberry/pseuds/kinnetic-fabgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover. QAF S3. Pre-Glee. Brian discovers he has a second child from a sperm bank deposit made years ago when he was high; only her situation isn't nearly as good as Gus' with the cwazy wesbians. Eventual Britin, eventual Faberry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee and Queer as Folk writers and creators.
> 
> I believe Quinn Fabray and Brian Kinney have a lot in common, so I've wanted to do something like this for a while. However, I've never written for Brian or any Queer as Folk-verse fics before, so I'd like to get someone who can beta me. This first chapter/prologue/preview is un-betaed, and therefore may suck. A lot. Updates on this will also come very slowly, most likely.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian Kinney meets Mrs. Judy Fabray, who has an unusual request.

She instantly reminded Brian of Jennifer when she walked through the door. Blonde, sophisticated. Clothes from the Vera Wang spring collection; jewelry from Gucci. Held herself like an uptight bitch and looked just as uncomfortable in the middle of Liberty Diner as Jennifer used to. Of course, Debbie didn’t seem to notice. She hollered almost the minute the bell rang, “Hey, honey! Have a seat! What can I get for you?”

The woman’s voice was much softer, and Brian didn’t pick up on the words, but he recognized the reaction in Debbie, the way she stiffened up. Still pissed at him for punching Michael. But she pointed him out anyway, and Brian took a second look as she growled almost as loudly as her press-on nails, “He’s over there.”

This was Judy Fabray then. The woman who had called him up a week ago telling him she’d used his sperm ten years ago and now she needed to talk to him about the brat she’d produced. Of course, he might’ve guessed she was one of the WASPs, like Lindsay and Jennifer, because she didn’t put it that way. It was ‘the services of a donor insemination facility’ and ‘discuss my child.’

Brian barely remembered making the deposit. Of course, he was high as fuck at the time and lied like hell on the form he filled out. If no one had corrected it at the sperm bank, it still said he was some blond bear in the meatpacking industry, so he’d figured no one would bother using it. The money had gotten him an Armani suit, though, and a promotion - like he’d told Mikey, ‘Employers reward those who reward themselves.’

Still, he hadn’t thought about it since, but here was this woman, here to remind him about his misspent youth.

She was eyeing him uncertainly when she approached, hands clasped before her. “Excuse me, are you Brian Kinney?”

He nodded, flipped the page of the newspaper spread out in front of him.

“I’m Judy Fabray, we spoke on the phone last week?”

One of her hands filled the space between them. Brian eyed it, shook her fingertips, and picked up his coffee.

She faltered.

“May I join you?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders, and Mrs. Fabray slid up on the stool next to him. She stopped in the midst of putting her purse on the countertop and reached for a napkin to wipe the space down first. He scratched at his ear.

“So, Mrs. Fabray. What can I do for you?” He swiveled, propping his elbow up on the counter, and she jumped.

She wasn’t an unattractive woman, for her age. Older than him, obviously, with wide green eyes and high, arching eyebrows. It was the discomfited pinch of her mouth that made her look like a cunt.

“Well, Mr. Kinney. I never had any intention of contacting you for anything,” she said carefully, measuring her words. He wondered how many times she’d practiced this on the way to old Pitts. “However, my husband and I have run into some financial difficulty lately - ”

Bingo. Money. It was always money, just like with Melanie.

“ - and our daughter - ”

So it was a daughter. It had been an odd enough feeling having a son. Knowing he was a father, that a part of him was out walking around. Or at least, learning how to walk, how to talk, how to piss. A constant reminder of the fact that he was getting older. But now there wasn’t only Gus, young Gus, only two years old. There was a daughter, too.

“ - has asked permission to receive a nose reduction.”

Wait. What?

“My husband gave it, but we don’t have enough to cover the costs and I thought, perhaps, you might be willing to help. I would, of course, pay you back, with interest as soon as I’m able, but the immediate cost is - ”

“Is there some reason she needs a nose job?”

Mrs. Fabray looked at him and those eyebrows went even higher, if possible. “Pardon me?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Deviated septum? Blocked nasal passage? Fucking coin stuck up there?”

She grimaced, but answered, “She wants one. It’s rather...prominent and she’s making efforts to be more...attractive.”

“Attractive?” Brian stared, and Mrs. Fabray’s fingers fidgeted about the end of her skirt. “She’s nine years old. Why the fuck does she need to be attractive?”

“Perhaps that’s the wrong word choice,” she allowed swiftly, and he didn’t miss the way her throat convulsed. “She’s simply unhappy with her appearance. Not only her nose, but premature acne, her weight.” She gestured vaguely.

It felt as though day-old cum was sitting on Brian’s tongue. A nine year old girl was unhappy with her appearance. Nine fucking years old. Even he hadn’t been worried about his looks at that age. Of course, what he worried about was the next time old Jack got shit-faced, so perhaps his childhood wasn’t the best example - but the thought was there now, and he wondered, had he wanted a nose job, would even his fucking parents have said yes?

‘D’you think money grows on trees, sonny boy?’

‘Vanity is a sin, Brian.’

But they wouldn’t have been alarmed. Debbie, on the other hand… She would’ve fucking flipped.

‘Michael Novotny! What in God’s name is wrong with you?’ SWAT! ‘You’re perfect, the way God made you. Now eat your pancakes.’

Unbidden, something unpleasant stirred in Brian’s gut, akin to that feeling what’s his name - the frog had given him.

“I understand it’s a lot to ask - ”

“The answer’s no, Mrs. Fabray.”

She eyed him, then the counter, and finally made to stand. “I understand - ”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

She stared again, with those wide green eyes. His jaw ached in protest.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me nonetheless,” she said at last, and without another offer of a handshake, disappeared from the Liberty Diner - but the unpleasant feeling lingered in Brian’s gut.


End file.
